


Defunct the Strings of Cemetary Things

by mizface



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-23
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N:  I’m dedicating this dark bit of fic to akamine_chan and omphale23.  Title from the Rob Zombie’s “Living Dead Girl".  Written for ds_snippets, for the prompt "gather."</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m dedicating this dark bit of fic to akamine_chan and omphale23. Title from the Rob Zombie’s “Living Dead Girl". Written for ds_snippets, for the prompt "gather."

Images flicker in Fraser's mind, like paging through a photo album.

 _Ray's eyes, shining happily, bright blue. Blue as the skies of Fraser's youth, clear and sparkling with laughter. Dark with anger; darker still with passion._

 _Ray's skin, warmed by the sun. Glowing by firelight, by the moonlight through their bedroom window._

 _Ray's mouth, smiling easily. Frowning deeply, a worn toothpick between his lips. Ray's lips chapped with cold, rough against his. Dampened by sweet, stolen kisses._

 _Ray's voice, popping with energy or growling with frustration. Low and husky in his ear, whispering near-pornographic suggestions while they work. Ray's knowing chuckle at Fraser's blush. His hearty laugh. His off-key singing with the radio._

 _Ray's hands, warm and friendly against his back, on his shoulder. Curled and fisted in anger. Accentuating his speech. His strong grip, pulling Fraser to his feet. Ray’s fingers playing with his bracelet, or dancing over Fraser's skin. Gentling him, inflaming him, caring for him._

 _Ray's body cradling his, sharing warmth and affection. Tight with tension, pacing, jittery. His easy grace as he dances. Relaxed in sleep. Sated and boneless._

Fraser gathers the memories to him, keeping them close. These are what mean _Ray_ to him, and none of them make up the thing facing him now. Its eyes gray and lifeless, skin cold and pale. Mouth open, teeth stained with blood. Voice mumbling meaningless syllables, interspersed with a keening cry. Hands reaching for him, body shambling slowly, movements jerky, stilted.

Fraser steels himself, raising Ray's gun to aim and fire. They'd made a terrible promise to one another when the outbreak happened. And Fraser is a man of his word, no matter that keeping it will rob him of life and reason as surely as the virus robbed Ray of his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for ds_snippets, for the prompt:   
> _Back to back, belly to belly  
>  I don’t give a damn, I done dead already  
> Oho back to back, belly to belly  
> At the Zombie Jamboree_  
> -Lord Intruder, 1959, "Jumbie Jamberee"

Red surrounded him. Blue haunted him.

Ray’s blue eyes, bleached of color. When they’d faded, Fraser’s world had faded with them, the only color left the red of duty, of blood.

His world was black and white and red, all over red.

He only wears red now. But the red of his uniform wasn’t enough. Blood-red… blood, red.

Blood dries and flakes, his uniform is stained and brown. He needs it to be red. He needs to be reminded. He can’t let it fade too.

 _Hearts-blood is red,  
Ray’s eyes were blue  
Their life had been sweet  
Now Ray’s life is through_

He misses Ray. He hadn’t missed Ray. He wishes to God he had, sometimes.

He’d promised Ray he would survive. He kept his word. He’s keeping his word.

But they’d never set a time limit.


End file.
